Two in the Bush
by adleadle
Summary: Goodwill has never been as cursed as it is now for Brienne. One moment of wanting to be a good samaritan has turned out to be a lifetimes worth of headache. And Jaime Lannister seems to be hell bent in making sure she learns her lesson.
1. Chapter 1

The steady beat pulsed through the entire hall and the rhythmic sound of heels hitting the platform set the phase for all the staff working.

Her pencil was drumming on her sketch pad as she watched the models striding on the catwalk in licentious heels. How they manage to not falter in their steps with the thinly heeled shoes, she will never know but she can't disregard the regality of each long limb ending in the most mystic shoes she had ever seen.

The seeming theme of the show her friend Margaery was assisting with was heavily leaning towards anything crimson, Lannister Red as called nowadays. Patented color for the eponymous fashion house.

She idly traced imaginary lines on her almost forgotten sketching paper with images brought upon the shoes and the clothes that the models were wearing.

Finding much needed inspiration at such a place was a must at that point. After all, Margaery had allowed her the rare opportunity to actually have an inside scoop to one of the most exciting collection of the season. Not many were privilege to such and most definitely not her if not for the golden ticket brought upon the connection of the Tyrells in the industry.

She remembered Margaery's barbed once against a jealous senior who was vying for the same apprenticeship with Lannister's Casterly Rock show. With a whip of her curly brown hair, Margaery wittingly retorted that she cares not how she gets in as it matters not about the how's but what matters most is if one can survive and succeed once in. Be it that she was accused many times of using her grandmother's connection in the industry, Brienne admires her friend's strength to let the malicious comment roll off her back.

She watched her friend moved about the stage, directing models movements and expressions as if she has been doing it many years of her life. The vigor that she saw allowed for more images to pour out from her brain to her finger tips and to her pencil and to finally take shape in her pad.

She was grasping the fruition of the high arch, pointed recline in her mind when she was jostled from her daze.

'Can you get out of my way?' a haughty voice roused her from her flouting reverie.

As often is the case, whenever she's caught in her imagination something that had always amused her few close friends, she found herself startled beyond wits making much clattering noise to offset some of the young models walking on the catwalk and catching the attention of many others.

'Seven hells!' The same voice exclaimed exasperatedly.

She couldn't figure out whether to remove herself first or pick up her things that were now littering the floor.

She was so disgruntled that she didn't notice someone picking up her sketch pad off the floor.

'You drew this?' The obviously male voice asked. She had to quell another start before she managed to look at the person talking.

The man was meticulously looking at her sketch pad without giving her a look despite posing a question towards her. It was at that point that she took stock of him. The cogs in her seemingly addled brain started turning, golden blond hair, bright green eyes, two-days' worth of scruff, grey suit and the same red she was staring at the last hour for a tie. Jaime Lannister.

'What are we waiting here for? Dragons to hatch?' The same haughty voice filled in again.

Jaime Lannister finally looked up, more to give the owner of the haughty voice an exasperated look but settled on her instead.

'You're a man, no?' He asked genuinely bewildered.

At that, the woman laughed and Brienne finally looked over at the female seemingly overcame by ill humor. If Jaime Lannister took her a while to recognize, seeing the woman was of instant recognition. Cersei Lannister, the other half of the Lannister twins.

Cersei Lannister was laughing boisterously yet still delicate ways of her and not little did it contain derision reserved all for her.

'Oh, Jamie! How can you be so rude?' She chastised but her tone and laugh was dripping with mockery. A hot flush crawled quickly on Brienne's skin, immediately she could feel everyone's eyes on her and the embarrassment made her want to run but at the same time frozen on the spot.

The male Lannister shook his head but there was an indulgent smile on his lips as he perused her appearance. Her short straw colored hair, the plaid shirt thrown over a worn t-shirt, cargo pants that have seen much much better days and combat boots that although comfortable have definitely have one too many scuffs. She knew she was not up to par compared to anyone else in that hall filled with both beautiful and fashionable people. And of course no one would even dare think of comparing her appearance with Cersei Lannister that despite the scathing insulting laugh remained ethereal with her flowing locks framing an expertly made up face.

'This your work, girl?' He asked again and calling her girl grated at her nerves.

'It is,' she said and finding movement with her limbs grabbed the sketch pad none too gently out of the most renowned photographer this side of the world. 'And if you'll excuse me.'

Disregarding the pencil that rolled off her hand she turned and with a stiff spine walked away looking at the nearest bend as if a shore of safety.

She could still hear Cersei Lannister's laugh and maybe half imagined the low chastising voice of Jaime Lannister to his twin sister.

Not a minute later Margaery was behind her, headset and the clipboard she was holding scarce from her.

'Don't mind those two, spoiled brats that they are.'

Brienne laughed mirthlessly.

'You and I know that if there're two people who can act as spoiled and rotten in this world, it's them.'

Margaery just snorted in acquiescence as it is true.

'So I can't be bothered really.' She supplied some more. Margaery just looked at her as she stared straight ahead willing the embarrassment to leave her system and the girl thought better than to further comment.

'Well, I'm hungry. I think it's as good time as any to take a break now that her majesty Cersei chose to grace us with her presence.'

Margaery insisted that she watch the show three days after the incident. She fervently wanted to say no using the remaining portfolio she needed to finish in time as an excuse but she was outdone by the girl's tenacity.

It was not like she was making any progress holed inside her apartment. The ideas that flooded her before seemed to all retract inside her brain to nothing but mere vignettes that she can almost see but not very clearly.

With a defeated sigh, she put herself inside the only trouser Margaery deemed appropriate for the event and a white button down shirt. The Tyrell wanted her to slip on a heeled shoe but she put her foot down against it sighting that she attracts more unwanted attention already with her height as it is and certainly another three inches would just be catastrophic in her books. So she slipped on a loafer of her own designs that was built for comfort more than anything.

The hall was unrecognizable from just a few days ago. The whole space was transformed to all shine and luster, of heat and softness. She had heard of Lannister's richness but it was her first time seeing the proof of it with her own eyes. The antique tapestries adorning the walls with depiction of a history that is no doubt the family's were most possibly not imitations. Even the vases and bowls, the tables they rest on and the chaises and couch tastefully placed inside the space for invited guests to seat upon were from a period and price range that would make anyone tear up in amazement.

She appreciatively traced the embroidery on one of the chairs, tracing the intricate work forming the lion's face with golden thread and precious stone for its eyes. The furniture left her in awe and with images for designs it inspired her with. Her fingers were itching to sketch and she grasped for her bag just to find none on her side.

Margaery insisted that her knapsack was surely out of place for the event so she was left with nothing but a small purse she fumbled clumsily with. She was not made for anything so small in her hands.

She tried to find any passable paper after locating a pen in her borrowed purse. But the place didn't deem paper napkins acceptable and she didn't think it would go unnoticed if she started drawing on the table cloth gilded with Lannister red.

So Brienne made her way around all the furniture and guests but without not a few pointed looks towards her. It was fortunate that she was just eager to get a hold of paper to put her ideas into something tangible that she disregarded the tedious comments about her height or her appearance.

She vaguely remembers the passage towards the backstage. It was a nice coincidence to find a familiar face standing by one of the doors leading to the back. It was Sam who she was able to meet a few days ago when she came to watch the rehearsal. The younger man allowed her access when she mentioned she was in search for Margaery who stole her bag filled with her needed paraphernalia.

The backstage was as chaotic if not more compared to the media outside. Models and staff alike were bustling in an organized melee preparing for the show. She didn't see the familiar form of her friend so she took liberties in walking around dodging people.

Brienne found herself in the quieter side of private dressing rooms and resting areas. The place was definitely deserted as everyone was mostly gathered at the general prep area. She was about to turn back when she heard voices.

Regularly she was not much of a curious person. Having a very curious father Brienne had learned to be cautious for the both of them. Never stick your nose into things you have no business with, never dip a finger in a pot you can't see inside of.

She heard a clatter and she jumped. There was groan soon after. It wasn't curiosity but mere reflex to aide someone who could possibly be hurt so she turned back with hurried steps to see what the noise was all about. Never had she thought that Tarthian chivalry was just about to turn her world upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime up to the very moment he was already outside his father's office dismissed and dissatisfied and confused failed to understand how everything had come about.

In his mind he tried to piece together the events that the last few days were made of.

He remembered her sister's tirade. He recalled the many drinks he took as he bore Cersei's usual diatribe of complaints towards their father, almighty Tywin Lannister.

Cersei had been begging, pleading, and demanding for their father to allow her to head the Lannister Fashion house. The patriarch's dismissal is understandable. For all his love for his dear sister Jaime knew that certain qualities their father trust for anyone to run a facet of the lion's empire were lacking from her. Not to add the fact that she has too much of some that Tywin deemed unsuitable of someone wanting to hold on to any part no matter how small of the conglomerate he had built.

He remembered lacking the usual patience he arms himself in his sister's presence. He's been wanting to go to his apartment since early afternoon, his fingers had been itching to get a hold of his charcoal wanting to capture an illicit image floating in the periphery of his mind. But when he tried to extricate himself Cersei had not let him. With a measured kiss and skillful stroke, he was a man on a leash. A very short leash it seemed.

'Jaime!' His sister's voice commanded his immediate attention. She was looking at him with the very same pair of eyes he knew all too well resides on his own face. It was safe to say that Cersei knew his distraction. She needn't had to say anything further to get a response from him.

He has heard of this particular passion of his golden twin.

She, Cersei Lannister, the only flower in Tywin Lannister's brood of three, have been the paragon of beauty ever since she emerged from the womb of their mother. At the age of 15 she became the face of anything deemed en vogue by the society. Upon entering the age of majority she began to dominate the runways and became the muse of anyone who deemed themselves a somebody.

The fame suited her. The attention she was bathed with made her all the more beautiful. Cersei flourished in the limelight she commanded. But all of it fed her innate arrogance as well and it was something that Tywin Lannister did not care to indulge.

Three times Cersei proposed the idea and three times was she rejected tersely by their father.

'You must convince father, Jaime.' She demanded. With Cersei, any favor you do her is your honor. She never asks, she mandates. Even to her very own twin brother.  
As mentioned, his usual patience was missing.

'Cersei, nothing in these seven hells would make the great Tywin Lannister change his mind when it comes to his beloved empire. Not you, not me. Live with it.' He impatiently retorted.

'You won't even try?' Her eyes narrowed into slits, the green eyes so like his own almost unrecognisable in quick sign of anger.

In other times Jaime might have placated her, soothed her growing irritation but his mind was just elsewhere. His mind was of sketch he was itching to do, a sudden bout of inspiration ever since that afternoon. Ever since he picked up that sketchbook.

'Get out.' Cersei hissed. It caught his wayward attention for once. 'You're useless.' She spat.

He looked at his sister, her beautiful face pinched with obvious ire. It seems all her discontent and hurt, nothing of which was caused by her brother, had all resulted to indignation and anger she now all directed at him.

Deep inside he was glad to be given leave. He would take note of this particular trick for next time. He approached her to give her a kiss before he drives like a madman to his private studio at his apartment.

He took her mouth, red and luscious, with his. Her sinful lips in lust and it seems even in anger always stirs his cock. He momentarily forgot what he had wanted to do, to kiss her goodbye and then hastily leave.

He was grinding himself at his sister, his hands catching her behind and pulling her body closer. In his mind he thought he was about to get the lure that his golden twin baited him with earlier, a fuck he hasn't had in a while because of her many out of country stints.

He was unprepared for the forceful push Cersei game him. Dazed, he stared at her.

'Leave, Jaime. I have no need of you.' Rejection was all over her face. She had turned her back at him completely dismissing his presence, very reminiscent of their father.

He watched until she disappeared further down the hall of her opulent penthouse before turning his back as well and exited.

Upon reaching his apartment, his head was swimming with images that his twin sister's rejection was long forgotten. It was the clamber of the morning's trash collector that woke him up from his stupor the following day. The desk, the floor, and pretty much every other flat surface were filled with sheets of paper, sketches upon sketches of still objects of every shape and form.

He took a deep breath as he felt the tell-tale signs of his brain unburdened. His fingers felt cramped and his hands blackened from the continuous strain of holding charcoal. He was tired, he was exhausted but invigorated.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so inspired that there was an uncharacteristic giddiness unlikely of a man his age. Certainly, Cersei won't let slide such childlike behaviour from him.

Freed from being a captive of inspiration, he shook the sleep off his eyes. He tripped on his phone lying on the floor beneath more paper. He picked up and was reminded of his sister.

He was feeling a lot lighter and knew he should be contacting Cersei and try to calm her down. His sister is not very magnanimous to people who disobeys her will.

Dialling on his phone as he made his way to his coffee machine, he grimaced at the sight of his kitchen. The line rang a couple of times before it clicked and the disconnected tone can be heard.

He stared at his phone and dialled again. Tyrion did always say his thick when it comes to their dear sister. But the same thing happened again, the disconnecting tone rang blaringly to his ears.

'Did you just reject my calls?' He typed the messaged and quickly sent it smiling at her sister's tantrum.

'If you won't make yourself useful you have no business with me.' The quick reply from her sister wiped the patronizing smile on his lips.

'My cock deemed useless to you now?'

'Convince father, Jaime.'

The incredulous laugh emerged from his lips. For Cersei to believe he was capable of changing their father's mind is flattering but futile. He put down his phone thinking nothing more of his twin's demands.

A fool was what he is when he turned on the TV later that day.

He let out a deprecating laugh as he watched her sister smile for the multitude number of flashing cameras vying to get the money shot of what seemed to be deemed as a powerhouse couple. Cersei was beautiful as she hung on the arms of Robert Baratheon, the brute of a man.

Countless of times he dialled her number, indignant for an explanation from his twin. The two just announced an engagement as if it was long overdue, as if the relationship had been going on for ages rather than Cersei just emerging from his bed not a few weeks ago fucking sexually sated because of him and not the damn Baratheon. Countless of times his call was directed to voicemail.

Frustrated and in the foothill of a mounting rage, he grabbed his keys and drove off to the skyscraper of which the penthouse was Cersei's self-proclaimed stronghold.

He waited and waited, for hours he stood by her door. No one opened the door, no one left and no one came. At least not until it was already the hour when he should have long gone home and to hell with Cersei and whatever explanation she owed to him.

His sister emerged from the elevator with the same regalness as she wore in front of the nation earlier in the televised event. None of the city filth nor the wearisome of the day marred her beauty and awe inspiring countenance.

When she saw him standing by her door like the jilted lover he really was she just continued on her way with merely a pointed look his way.

She was graceful even while stepping off her shoes.

'You look horrid, Jaime.' She said, the scorn on her voice palpable.

'Hello to you too, sister.' He watched as she untied the knot holding her dress on her delicate neck so fragile looking his hands always seemed too rough against.

He waited for her to explain but he realized he was not going to get any without him voicing his questions. His sister was never known to give out anything willingly. It always had to be pried from her.

'What the fuck was that all about?' He spat. He wasn't a patient man and the hours of not knowing what was happening or to whom he would get his answer had brought him to the end of his rope.

'It is what it is, brother.' Cersei answered without caring to look at him.

'The hell it is!' He roared. 'Are you telling me that you're marrying that bastard?' He heard her sigh exasperatedly as she tried to walk towards her bedroom.

He grabbed her arm and tugged her to turn and face him.

'Answer me, Cersei!'

'Yes!' Cersei screamed at him. 'I am marrying, Robert!' He was momentarily stunned. Her answer was slow to be absorbed by his brain.

'What?'

'He would give me what you and father refuse to give to me. What I deserve!' Her eyes were burning bright. Scorn and hate, hurt and pain. 'Father thinks I'm nothing more but beautiful face, incompetent and useless. And you-you!'

He flinched. She didn't put to words any accusation but the venom of it was present none the less.

'What about me?' He asked in suppressed emotion. 'What about me, Cersei?'

'You have no ambition, Jaime.' She shrugged from his hold. 'Father will give you anything even if you don't work hard for it. You'll never understand.'

'It's you.' He murmured. 'It's only you I've always wanted.'

Cersei turned to him, for a moment her face melted into the face of his lover once more. She reached out her palm and he stepped closer to her touch. He felt her palms caressed her jaw.

'If I had the choice, I would have picked you. But father,' she looked at him and the plea was in her voice once more. Convince father.

'I'll talk to father.' He conceded and she smiled as if dark clouds parted to reveal scorching bright sun.

'Do that, for me. For us.' He reached for her and took her mouth like he always did. He tried to fight off the image of her kissing Baratheon. It doesn't matter. She's back in his arms now.

Cersei pushed away from him when his hands traveled down the hem of her dress, fisting the flimsy material on his hand. His body was humming. All the tension drained away from his system and the need to affirm their bond fueled his untended lust.

He palmed her thighs, parting her feet to make space for his body to come closer to her. The silky cloth of her lingerie was maddeningly tortuous. How he want to plunge himself inside her and satiate his need for her, her need for him. He knows she wanted him, she was warm and moist. He was ready to press her up the wall and take her as soon as he could but Cersei's hands stopped and pushed.

'I'm tired, Jaime.' Her hand caressed her face before she turned away once more.

He was stiff hard, aching and in pain. He palmed himself with a groan.

'I'll see you when you've talked to father.' I'll give you what you want when you deliver what I want. Jaime heard the condition. He wasn't an idiot.

* * *

His father sat on his table. The heavy set table was clear of clutter. The man, the legend Tywin Lannister. To many he inspires awe and idolatry, mostly to many aspiring entrepreneurs or any joeblow who dreams of making it big. His stature despite his age still demanded much attention, respect and fear from all his subordinate and a few he may call peers.

But to his three children it was a convoluted mix where one does not know when respect and fear start and end.

'Let Cersei take a hold of Lannister Fashion.' He broke the quiet his father so easily commands to unnerve anyone in his presence. Jaime had been at the many ends of his father's usual ways, not that he ever got immune to it.

Tywin Lannister gave him a look, a moment of his attention away from the documents he was perusing.

'Cersei doesn't have what it takes to head it.'

'She does.' He argued. He knew his sister was competent in her own ways but under his father's scrutiny he knew his argument for Cersei at most was weak.

'I would not have a profitable arm of this company grow weak and crippled to feed your sister's ego.'

'It's not like we will go down even if a season under her doesn't make profits.'

His father put down the document he was reading when Jaime first arrived. The man pointedly stared at him.

'You and your sister have grown complacent and ignorant.' Tywin's voice was cutting and Jaime felt like a chastised child once more. 'We will be fine even if half of the conglomerate falls. Your capricious life will be well sustained, your unproductive hobbies supported. But the world doesn't revolve around the two of you. Many smaller men rely in the half-pennies that fall off your pocket.

'One season you say? No profits? A failed venture? A stain to our credibility. Think before you speak, boy. You don't value what you don't understand.' His father was clearly unimpressed with him but he couldn't just back down. It was his and Cersei's lives on the line whether their father knows of it or not.

'Cersei threatens to marry that Baratheon. He promised to give her reign on Vale.'

His father scoffed before going back to the documents he deemed much important than his son.

'Then he will get the first hand lesson why I denied Cersei. If he's foolish enough to let his libido control his company I'll not be one to blame.'

Jaime shot up from his seat.

'You'd let your daughter whore herself to that bastard for something so small you can give her yourself!'

'I did not condone this idea. Your sister decided this on her own and she won't be convinced otherwise. If not for Robert's inane idea of letting your sister run a company, it is a good match for marriage by all means.'

'What do you mean?' He asked in a much lower voice.

'I advised Baratheon it was an unwise decision to let Cersei ruin such a fine company.'

'When?' He asked. 'When did you talk to Robert?'

'When? Well, when he informed me of his plan on marrying your sister.' The disgusted and reprimanding look of his father was missed as his words spin on his head. 'Early this year.'

Earlier this year, six months ago, three months ago? When he fucked Cersei every chance they got, the small window in between her trips, the short hours they could spend together between their scheduled jobs. She failed to mention anything, she failed to let him know anything at all.


	3. Chapter 3

She stood behind the half opened door, rooted and incomprehensive.

Her father had always commended her for wanting to help any chance posed upon her. She'd always thought it a good character. Help the little old lady carry her groceries, help the neighborhood kids fix up their bikes, join the community drive, volunteer for the shelter. It was something being brought up in Tarth makes one to be. A small almost isolated town such as theirs needs all the help from its townfolks. She was always endearingly eager to lend a hand said Mrs. Roelle in her patronizing ways.

At the age of 10 Brienne stopped thinking much about Mrs. Roelle's condescending remarks when she realized the old lady was just innately patronizing no matter who she was speaking with. But she should have listened at least to one bit of her warning given with a snorted sneer, she said one day soon you'll find yourself in trouble with your overzealous need to help.

Who she recognized first was his broad shoulders. She didn't realize she remembered it as well as she did. But there he was, the long golden hair mussed by fingers with nails in blood red polish. She thought as she saw that those talons could possibly gouge and fray skin.

Then there was his voice unmistakable as he groaned the name of the woman pressed on the wall atop a serviceable table. 'Cersei,' the guttural voice as if lost in the moment rang in her ears.

It was the twins, the goddamn Lannister twins screwing each other in the dressing room.

Jaime Lannisters hands disappeared between their bodies, long shapely limbs wrapped around his torso.

'Yes!' Seductive keening voice rang in the tiny room as Cersei Lannister threw her head back in a plain show of ecstasy.

'No other man can make you cum as well, Cersei. Only me, my cock. Remember that when you fuck Baratheon!' The male of the golden twins said harshly before he pulled his hand away from between Cersei Lannister's thighs.

The short moment of being frozen was the small window of opportunity to make herself scarce and Brienne lost that moment. A sliver of a second later, two sets of green eyes were focused on her.

No shock nor panic were in their eyes. They looked at her as if she was beneath the two of them, not worthy to cause anxiousness despite the obvious fact of her being a witness to something so irrevocably damaging to both of them.

Jaime Lannister was looking at her direction but she realized very soon that he was in fact looking past her. His eyes were void, the anger of his voice wasn't reflected in his verdant eyes. It was hollowed and hurt. He inadvertently ignored her as he walked passed and exited the changing room.

And she, Brienne, remained frozen on the spot. Not seeing.

'What the hell are you standing there for?' The vicious voice of Cersei Lannister awoke her from being petrified. 'Get out, you freak!'

Brienne stumbled at her feet as she made haste in turning to leave. Cersei Lannister flicked the hem of her dress down and she saw her for the slightest bit of a second looked pained, as pained as her brother.

She couldn't think further but at least Cersei Lannister's command seemed to take hold of her body as her feet scrambled to get away, farther from the site of what seemed to be a surreal dream. But it was real, their voices so foreign and yet now so ingrained in her system, ringing on and on.

As she turned the bend she was painfully jerked by a strong grip on her arm. She was ready to throw a punch at whoever was trying to manhandle her but her flinging fist was caught and wrestled to her side by a palm the same size as her own.

Jaime Lannister pressed her to the wall, forcefully holding her in place.

'Don't breathe a word of it.' He said, the threat palpable with just so few words.

She stared at him, meeting the determined eyes boring down at her.

'Not a word!' He hissed, his face so close to hers.

Brienne could only nod dumbly.

'Say it,' he demanded further as his grip on her arm pressed tightly, painfully.

'Not a word,' she murmured and she meant it.

He looked at her as if gauging the sincerity of her given vow. And as if satisfied with what he saw he let go of her as if she was unclean and should be wiped off. Indignation and embarrassment warmed her skin.

She couldn't help but laugh to herself at the irony of the events. It was them who she caught in the most compromising situation that the media would devour if she so let out a squeak but it was her who cowered into submission as if she was the one who had something to hide.

'Gods! Why were you even there? Or here!' He exclaimed. Jaime Lannister looked torn between anger and exasperation, like his patience was at world's end for her. He looked at her who was still plastered on the wall once more unable to move as much as how his twin made her scamper.

'I-,' He glared at her as she tried to explain, why she even want to explain she doesn't know. But as the shock of the events wore off, her own frustration mounted up. It wasn't her who has something to hide.

She pushed herself away from the wall and Jaime Lannister just looked at her as if half-amazed that she was talking in his presence.

'I thought someone got hurt!' She blurted with a wave of her hand.

'What?' The golden man even in confusion looked devastatingly perfect in furrowed brows.

'I heard a groan!' Her own voice was raised as a self-defence when Jaime Lannister turned towards her once more.

He squinted at her and then he was guffawing in uncontrolled laughter.

'You, you heard a groan, someone-hurt!' The boom of his laughter made her uneasy as if what she said was senseless, an idiocy. When he was able to breathe a bit better after laughing so much he grabbed his arm once more and pulled her further down the hall.

What an odd pairing they must be to the passing crew who looked at them as the male Lannister dragged her effortlessly not very many could do to her.

'Woman, woman.' He said finally letting her arm go when they were once again away from most of the people. She mused on the fact that for all the chaos outside there were so many empty areas on this side. 'Tell me your name, you.'

Brienne was huffing still and unconsciously massaging the arm that he was gripping only a minute ago. It was warm. Jaime Lannister looked on at the movement perhaps a bit regretful.

'I asked for your name, woman.' Annoyance was on his face not impressed with her momentarily lack of attention towards him.

'You didn't ask, you demanded.' She muttered under her breath and he only raised one perfect eyebrow at her she could never attempt to try least she wanted to look ridiculous with lazy eyes. It's not like her face lack in things unpleasant to look at as it is.

'Your name, wench.' He said seemingly not appreciating her retort.

'Brienne. It's Brienne.' She muttered twice when he cocked his head closer.

'Here's how things will be, Brienne.' The sound of her name with his voice, mockingly dragging the few syllables unwittingly and annoyingly she felt a tingling in her spine because of it.

She gave him her full attention, even if she didn't want to it will be taken anyways. For knowing the man just a short time she now partly understood the fascination of the masses about the golden Lannisters.

'You'll give me your word not to breathe to anyone about what you saw. If I hear a peep about it from someone's mouth, I will hunt you. I will hunt you down and there's no place you can hide yourself that I won't find.' He paused as if wanting to let his words sink in.

Jaime Lannister took several steps towards her again and she noticed that he closely matched her in height. He probably intended to loom over her, intimidate her, but given her own build he failed.

Brienne at the realization gathered herself and glared back at Jaime Lannister.

The man was forced to take a step back when he placed her palms on his suited chest and pushed.

'Stop telling me what to do. And stop threatening me.' She glared harder at him, the glare she had perfected to scare all the jackasses who liked to test her patience ever since she was five. 'I'm not an idiot, Mr. Lannister.' She spat his name, any awe the name may have inspired from any other was lost on her. 'Who you fool around matters not to me, I don't care. And the least I want for my life is to be involved with you or anyone associated with you.' She pushed her way around him with the full intent to have the last word in that conversation. She swore to herself she will avoid those two as if her life depended on it.

She willed herself not to start running and keep the dignity she wished her firm statement ought to have given her. But before she could get farther she heard him talk again.

'We're in agreement then, wench. And for the sake of the seven, do yourself a favor and learn how fucking sounds or you'll be walking in on one too many ruts.'

She couldn't help but look back and glower at him. The insufferable man was grinning as he took to leaning on the wall seeming relax like the whole chain of events wasn't as dire as what it was.

She's just glad she wouldn't have to see him anymore. Margaery would just have to take her word for it when she say Lannister fashion house will make her break out in hives.


	4. Chapter 4

She was laughing and smiling like nothing had happened. She was flinging her hair flirtingly, charming the pants off of every man within 3 meters of her.

Cersei Lannister clung to Robert Baratheon's arm like it's the life support she had always wanted. She looked at him like all her prayers if she had prayed ever to be answered all in one man. And it hurt. It hurt so much Jaime Lannister wanted to tear Baratheon in pieces to ease his pain.

But instead all he could do was drown himself in the free flowing alcohol that the affluent of Westeros are indulging with bought by Lannister gold.

All the who's who of King's Landing and its neighboring countries were all there to show themselves off in hopes of bumping shoulders with Tywin Lannister. Regrettably so, the Lannister patriarch did not grace them with his presence. Without the man himself to overshadow everyone else by his attendance the limelight was up for grabs by anyone. Or they could at least try and yet fail.

Hence, the ridiculous and boisterous boasting of deeds and achievements of even their ancient predecessors could be heard in every conversation to one up the other.

He glowered at two approaching men to dissuade them from trying to make acquaintance of him. Jaime had lost count of the imbeciles he sent scampering away, men and women of all ages, with friendly or lascivious intents both.

For all his impending intoxication he knew to avoid conversations lest he sputter things he should not let slip his tongue in fury. Cersei's cold reproach when he tried to catch her gaze was damning. He hated the fact that he understood all too well what her wintry countenance meant. She was able to push back their illicit encounter only an hour ago behind the façade of fawning at her recently announced fiancé.

There was untold threat in her few gazes, making sure he keeps his mouth shut, make certain that he had cleaned up after them. He knew of his sister too well. Despite the bitter fight between them, Cersei was assured that he would do nothing that will cause her harm. She banked on his loyal affection.

He grimaced at his twin's audacity. Cersei insulted him, his pride, his manhood and even his love for her. It was his love for her that was one he knew was his and took quiet pride of. But she gouged it and trampled over it. Her dreams found more foothold in her than he did it appeared.

He failed to convince their father. Tyrion the clever, laughed when he heard of his effort. Pityingly, his younger brother patted his lower back in a show of consolation. They both knew what futile an attempt it would have been from the beginning.

'You're the most beautiful idiot I've ever met, bro.' Tyrion commented, a remark both for his effort to persuade Tywin Lannister from his decision and underlying admonishment for his affair with their sister. And he could only glare back at his younger brother.

Cersei knew the answer he got from their father almost immediately. When he tried to meet her, to plead for his case, with her back turned towards him she just stood in a pose as if for a camera and how he wanted to catch the image. But the beauty of it wasn't just all her physical looks, the forlorn and regret in her stooped shoulder and resigned smile made it enigmatic. If only it had stayed long enough.

His twin sister looked at him from over her shoulders, he remembered. She stared at him for a bit and restated what every media source has been feasting in printing and televising about. 'I'm marrying Robert.' Disappointment, anger, once more all towards him. She blamed him. It was all his fault in her eyes and he didn't realize he was slowly and yet surely absorbing her accusations as if it was the truth. Her truth, his reality.

His hand shook, his drink sloshing over the rim. He took one big swallow before he unceremoniously flung it on the floor startling the nearby huddled groups.

Jaime scanned the room plotting for a fast exit so as not to witness anymore of his sister's sickening show of affection to another man.

He walked towards the nearest exit, all be damned as they watch him unmistakeable with his intent to leave the event his family's colors hosts. He couldn't care anymore less. But for all his bravado his eyes once more were attracted to where he knew his golden twin was.

But Cersei wasn't there. He stopped and inadvertently scanned the brimming hall, overflowing with people who gave ignorant if not empty praises to the lavish décor hardly appreciating the history or the artistry of every piece of furniture and tapestry they gazed upon.

Jaime would think much much later as to why his feet started moving one after the other towards the direction where he saw the familiar gold strands of her sister's hair disappear following the straw-colored hair sticking out to one too many direction.

He elbowed his way in between shrieking matrons and superfluous bald and pot bellied men. He strode as a man on a mission.

In the darker hallway, he immediately saw the ridiculously tall woman backed by his much fragile looking twin sister. A passerby might not believe that it was the bigger of the two that was in dire need of saving. He knew all too well how merciless and a bitch his sister could be.

'Brienne!' He called aloud.

Two pairs of eyes looked at him bright in contrast to the shadows, both recognizing him immediately in their own ways. One pair was like looking at a mirror and the other, the other was so blue, so blue he never knew such color possible for such a woman.

Cersei glared at him as he purposely walk closer at the two women.

'You know her?' The incredulous tone on her sister's voice didn't bode well for him or for Brienne.

'Come with me,' pointedly ignoring his sister he directed his instruction to Brienne. The foolish woman instead of snapping into movement just stared at him like he sprouted a second head. 'Come, Brienne.' He said again, not liking the trend of repeating himself with Brienne.

'What is happening here?' Cersei whispered in a half contained voice not liking being ignored as much as he does.

He gave his sister a piercing look. Making a point of not giving her the cosseting she was so used to getting from him.

'Let's go.' His hand wrapped around the nearest limb of Brienne's and pulled her towards him. The recognizable scent of Cersei pervaded the little space the three of them occupied in that short moment before he stepped away with the full intent of dragging Brienne with him.

But he was stopped from walking away when Brienne yelped in pain. He instantly let go of her arm and expecting Brienne snapping at him but she was looking at Cersei and at the other arm his twin sister was gripping, red nails digging at Brienne's pale skin.

'Jaime,' Cersei's voice held warning for him. She didn't let go of Brienne as she stared at him, a conversation only the two of them were privy of.

_What is the meaning of this?_

_None of your goddamn business._

_It is my business!_

_Well, fuck you!_

And he took hold of Brienne's arm again with the full intent of getting away from Cersei while they still both can unscathed.

'What the hell is wrong with the two of you?' Someone snapped and he wasn't all too surprised when it was Brienne.

She easily pried her arms from their grips and glowered at the both of them, towering, chiding and disbelieving.

'I don't want anything to do with the two of you so can you just leave me alone.' Brienne said with sharp looks that for some reason reminded him of someone so familiar from the past, fleeting thought. 'I'm leaving.' She murmured to no one in particular and he could hear her muttering, he couldn't blame her if she was cursing him and his twin up to the last strands of their hairs.

She marched off without looking back and he wanted to do the same, preferably soon. He was about to when he felt the sharp nails on his arm.

'Jaime, you can't just let her go! She will tell people!' There was frantic panic in Cersei's voice and in her eyes. It was the vulnerability she rarely shows. It was only with him that she will be ever willing to show it. He wondered if Baratheon will see it now too.

He placed his hand over Cersei's. It remained there touching her warm skin disregarding the pain of her nails sinking on his wrist she gripped.

His fingers, his fingers almost caressed her soft skin. Jaime looked at her, the panic, the plea.

'Brienne won't tell anyone.' He believed Brienne, an unfounded trust on a stranger's words.

'How can you be sure?'Cersei shrieked irritated with his evident conviction. 'How do you even know that freak's name?'

'She has a name.'

'Who cares, Jaime? Make her quiet. She can't ruin this for me. No one can ruin this for me!'

Jaime sneered at her sister's words. 'Obviously.' No one, not even him. Not what they have or had.

His fingers on top of hers stilled and he pulled her blood red nails off of him.

He held her hand for a beat longer. And he walked away. He walked away without succumbing to the need, to the desire to take one more look at her. He heard her voice calling him. It was hissed, whispered, unwanted to be heard by anyone else. She could have run after him but no she couldn't afford to do that. People will see, people will ask. It might ruin things for her. But of course he won't ruin things for her. He's just Jaime, he is just her brother, the brother who fucked her half their lives together.

Jaime took a big gulp of air as soon as he stepped out from the cloistered hall of where the fashion show happened, where his sister's scent permeated the whole space.

He closed his eyes, willing all the images in his mind, memories of them together taunting him, to be gone.

His will was weakening just from remembering his sister, immediately he wanted to run back inside and take her back to his arms, run away with her. They can live far away, they don't need any of the golds and the fame, they don't need anything else. Cersei will realize it soon enough. They just need each other, just like before.

He was ready, he was willing, he wanted to. Jaime turned to go back but as he did so he collided with a wall sending him on the floor with a force.

He heard a groan.

'What is wrong with my luck!' The wall exclaimed. 'A Lannister! Again!'

Instead of getting up, Jaime laid still on the ground. He laughed. He laughed loud and long. And he didn't care. His belly hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

Brienne was furious.

All she wanted was paper and look at what it got her into.

For such high personalities of Westeros, why do these Lannisters seem to be loitering everywhere she went?

'Seriously!' She groaned as she corrected herself feeling the pain on her chest from the collision. She had endured enough manhandling for this evening.

The assailant however was oblivious to her irritation. He was lying on the ground without a care in the world, with eyes closed and a leftover of the hearty if not inane howl of a laughter he bellowed a few seconds ago on his mouth.

'Help me up, Brienne.' Jaime Lannister commanded, that tone can't be mistaken for anything else but an order from a man used to giving it and expecting to be followed.

Brienne has had enough surely. She waded her way around his lying form and walked away wanting with all her heart to leave and forget all about tonight. Sadly it meant as well that the inspiration that pushed her to look for damn papers was floating quickly away from her mind.

A frustrated sob emerged from her lips. She was already wallowing in the loss when Jaime Lannister made himself annoyingly appear again.

She stopped from walking when Jaime Lannister walked just a few steps beside her.

'What are you doing?'

'I'm heading this direction.' He said and pointed nowhere in particular. She groaned before grabbing her phone to dial for a cab.

When she marched away from the Lannister twins, she knew immediately she had to leave that place. She searched and found Margaery and hastily gave her compliments for a great show and told her she had to go. Margaery just gave her a look and she promised to tell her about it when they see each other again. Her friend would wring an explanation whether she liked it or not, she need to fabricate a simple truth to supply Margaery since she couldn't spew a lie to save her life.

Margaery worried about how she'll get home and she had to reassure her that she can phone a cab although a cab ride isn't necessarily in her budget. But even she can splurge after the night she'd had.

But seven hells be damned, she stood there as she waited for the dispatcher to pick up her line. Damn rich people and their chauffeured cars.

'Need a ride home, wench?' She heard Jaime speak just behind her, probably hearing the extensive automated spiel of the cab company. It was hurting her ears with its crackly low quality sound but it was either that or have to face Jaime Lannister.

She didn't know why he was even standing near her.

She took a glimpse of him and he was just standing there with a brow raised and looking at her. He motioned for steering the wheel and pointed at her then to himself with his thumb. She frowned. Brienne ignored him and took to stepping away from the seemingly deranged man and waited patiently for the dispatcher.

'I'll drive you home.' She heard him speak again. 'It's Saturday, it will take forever to get a cab to pick you up here.' She tried her best to ignore him, to pretend she didn't hear a word he said.

But the man is not for patience or for manners or good sense.

He grabbed her phone off her hands and ended the call.

'W-what did you just do? I would have been the next one!' She spluttered.

'I said I'll drive you home.' The man said distractedly as he looked at her phone. He fiddled with it for a little bit. 'What's the pin?' He asked.

'What's the what?'

'The pin, wench. The pin.' He pointed at her phone. 'Your phone, give me the pin.'

'Why would I give you the pin? Give me that back.' She made to grab her phone back from his grasp but Jaime Lannister just took to turning around and dodging her hands.

'The picture on the screen, I want to see it again.' He said, fiddling with her phone. It seemed he was trying to typed in pin as if he would by the darnest luck chance upon the correct one.

'Why do you want to see my chair?' She huffed in frustration when the man was able to once more dodge her rather adeptly.

'Your chair?' He asked cocking his head to look at her peculiarly.

'Yes, my chair. I designed. I made it, I own it.' Between gritted teeth she made another attempt to take what was hers. But the man seemed to take what is hers whether she wanted to give it or not.

'You designed it.' Jaime Lannister stopped moving, talking to himself. 'The sketches.'

He looked bewildered and Brienne watched him in confusion as thoughts flittered on his face.

'Where is it?' He spoke once again. 'In your studio?'

'I don't have a studio.' She huffed.

'Where is it?' He repeated.

'At home, it's the only place where it will remain intact.' She recalled the few incidents where her works were vandalized and everyone knew who had done it but no solid proof can pinpoint them. In turn, she decided to evacuate her works into her small apartment.

It made her living conditions worst with the cramped space but it was that or lose them altogether.

'What do you mean?' Jaime Lannister's interest unnerved her.

'What does it have to do with you?' She said stubbornly. 'Give me back my phone, I want to go home.'

'Come.' He said and started walking away from her.

Brienne clenched her fist to stop the urge to grab and hurl something at the infuriating man.

'Come? To where?' She hissed.

'To see your chair.'

Brienne found herself standing over a Valaryan car. It was shiny.

She knows of many people who worship the line but for her it was nothing more than a means to transport the fewest people possible from point A to point B, just a tad shinier. But it seemed to be something that just comes with the territory for a Lannister. He did the precautionary swipe on the hood and chose to pick it up from the special parking area rather than have a valet bring it to him.

'Get in.' He commanded as he unlock the car.

'I'm not going anywhere with you.' She stated despite standing beside his car. 'Again, just hand me my phone back before I report you to the police for theft.' Which she knew was highly unlikely anyone would take seriously. A Lannister stealing her outdated phone of all things.

'Afraid for your virtue, wench? Have no fear, I have no interest.' He said with a deprecating smirk.

Warmth tried to flood her face at the poorly veiled insult.

'You're intoxicated, Mr. Lannister. I fear not for my virtue but for my life. So, no I'm not going anywhere with you behind the wheel.'

'I'm hardly drunk, woman. You insult my alcohol tolerance.' He rebuffed but took her by surprise when he threw a set of keys at her. 'But if it will make you shut up and follow my orders for once, be my guest and chauffeur me.' He walked towards her side of the car and raised his brows at her when she remained rooted.

'You're letting me drive your Valaryan?' She asked surprised.

'You do have a driver's license, don't you?' He said pausing his way inside the car.

'Of course!'

'We're all set then, yes?' Jaime Lannister closed the door on his side and she was undeniably expected to follow as well. With a roll of her eyes she conceded. She just wants to get home after all. And the man is incorrigible.

She drove quietly as Jaime Lannister made it a point to talk for the two of them. She blocked out much of what he was saying and navigated Street of Steel with ease.

'You drive quite…well, I suppose.' He said after she had hoped he ran out of things to say, but alas she was wrong.

'I drive as normal.' She shrugged his praise.

'But you can put a little more speed you know. This beast is made to roar.' Jaime Lannister said with gleaming eyes directed at her, urging for her to comply. 'It's amazing when she does.'

'She?' She inquired mockingly.

'She, Honor. It's her name. My favorite in the fleet, you know. ' He ran an appreciative hand on the luxurious dash.

'Why is a car a female though?'

'Because she loves it when you ride her.' He said as a matter of factly and Brienne regretted even asking as Jaime Lannister winked at her suggestively.

Before long they had passed The Guildhall of the Alchemist. She found an empty parking space just before the King's Square and killed the engine there.

'Why are we stopping here? Is it here where you live?'

'No, but this is where I stop. You probably live somewhere fancy in the Highhill.'

'But I'm going to see the chair!' She looked at him unaware that he was serious about going to her place to see a chair.

'You were serious?'

'Yes! I want to see it for myself and see if it's stunning as stunning as it looked in the picture. Give me your pin, woman!'

'1234.'

'Seven hells!' Jaime Lannister exclaimed. 'How cunning, wench!' He mockingly laughed at himself.

'It's cliché, it works.' She shrugged.

In her periphery, she could see him engrossed into analyzing the rococo chair she designed for her 3rd year student exposition. It was the most detailed work she had ever made into being. It was one out of a 6 set she had designed but could only afford to buy the materials for one piece.

'It's beautiful.' Lannister whispered to himself.

She was rendered speechless by the heartfelt compliment.

She continued to drive quietly and so did Jaime Lannister who carried on with scrutinizing the rococo piece when he found more photos in her image gallery.

'Your phone is a piece of shit.' She glared and he just laughed. 'It's true.'

'It works,' was all she said.

Before long they were at the entrance of Flea bottom where her apartment was, on the second floor of a utilitarian 4 storey building. Most of the residents were students like her who attends Rhaenys' Academy of Arts, the poorer lot.

As soon as she parked the car along the empty street, her passenger jumped out and hurried her to follow quickly.

She was surprised he didn't make a comment about the apartment complex but instead was eagerly waiting for her to point to the direction of her unit.

They made quick steps to the second floor, her leading the way and Lannister closely behind her.

There was a bit of a stale smell from the first unit next to the staircase, Bronn probably had once again conveniently forgot to clean up after himself.

Jaime was pushing his way from behind her as soon as she unlocked the door.

'Yes, please come in.' She muttered when Jaime strode inside like he owned the place.

'Where is it?' He demanded as he was greeted by furniture pieces on top of each other. She had sample banister designs and oak table tops, some halfway done with carvings others elaborately shaped into completion.

'In my bedroom. Wait and I'll bring-,' he picked the first door he saw and opened it without preamble. 'Mr. Lannister! You can't just barge into anywhere-.' Once more she found herself unable to speak when she walked it on the man caressing the ornately carved arm of the chair.

He ran his hand ever so slowly on the fabric that took her two months to design and paint. The frolicking movement of the peonies were her particular favourite. She remembered putting so much effort on it that most of the time was spent on each petal to bring them to life petal by petal as befit for a rococo texture.

'It's hand painted.' He remarked.

'I painted it.' She said with no small amount of pride, fed by his clear veneration.

He glanced at her and there was obvious respect in his green eyes she almost preened.

She cleared her throat as he rose, his gaze never far from the furniture who if alive would have possibly melted by the adoring gaze it received from Jaime Lannister.

'Jaime Lannister,' the golden man reached out his hand.

Brienne couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips at the ridiculous turn of events.

'I know, Mr. Lannister. The whole Westeros knows.' She chuckled some more.

'Call me Jaime. And just take the damn hand.' He said with a smirk.

And she did.


	6. Chapter 6

Brienne chose to lean on the meager counter-top of her kitchen as they quietly sipped their coffee.

Despite his denial of being drunk he was still thankful for the silent gesture that the wench did. She had methodically made coffee and pressed the steaming mug on his hand.

The hot drink slowly cleared his head and he opted to slip down on the only clear space of her floor willing away the dizziness.

'What, no questions?' He said as the silence unnerved him. He had never gotten used to the quietness much like his father's. 'Surely, you're eager to know the gritty details of things.' Surely she is, everyone had always been out to get them. Someone was always sniffing him out, everything they do was easy fodder for the media and everyone wants their two pennies in to get a dragon back.

But Brienne just gave her a look as she finished her own drink. It smelled sweet, he doubted it was coffee.

'Finish your drink and go home, Mr. Lannister.'

'Call me, Jaime.' He reiterated, the big wench truly likes making him repeat himself.

'Finish your drink and go home, Jaime. I'm tired and I have a long day still tomorrow.' She said as she washed her cup and motioned for him to give his as well.

'You're not very hospitable you know. I still haven't finished mine.'

'You're talking clearly enough. You're not as inebriated as I thought after all. Half a mug is more than enough.'

He sighed and sipped the remaining coffee in it. The strong coffee really did clear the fog in his head that settled as soon as he was done analyzing the chair that so caught his fancy.

'I'm going, I'm going. I don't want to be caught up in here when your bed warmer comes around.' He said waving a hand to get her to take the mug he held.

She grabbed the mug none too gently. 'There's no such person.'

'How lonely it must be. And it's getting cold. I wonder why no men clamor for your attention, when you're so charming too?' A smirk played out on his lips just watching her bristle at his jape.

Calling her plain might be an insult to other plain girls and she's as big as the oaf Robert Baratheon, but no matter how unpleasant she looks Jaime would have to admit if only to himself that her bristling was an entertainment on itself. The quick warming of her face was so obvious that it was almost inspiring, the changing of her pale white skin to a Lanister red.

'No one here laughs at your insults to me. Save it when there are others to join you in your ridicule.' She remained stoic in features despite turning crimson.

'You're no fun at all, Brienne.'

'I wasn't told I was to provide your entertainment. Give me heads up next time and I'll learn to juggle.' The way she said it with a straight face made him chuckle.

'Just kidding, just kidding. You're interesting enough with or without the juggling act.' He said with a wave of a hand.

Brienne just watched him as he tried to pull himself up. But the moment he was about to slip he felt her hand wrap around his upper arm. It was a strong grip. Her hand secured him as she singlehandedly steadied him.

'Are you a body builder by any chance?' He quipped to salvage his own self-esteem and he felt her hand grip him tightly for a second before she let go.

'No, I just keep the muscles ready to punch drunken mouthy people.'

'Hmm, that so hey?' Stalling for time as his legs fought off the light-headedness he was feeling, he brushed imaginary dust on his suit that was once perfectly unwrinkled but now possibly forever ruined. Not that it matters. A ruined suit seemed to be the least miserable thing to happen in his world.

He laughed at himself. All of a sudden it came crashing at him. Cersei had chosen another man over him, or rather chosen her dream, her ambition than him and what he they had together.

He knew it. He knew that it was hard for them to be ever really together. What they can have will just be stolen moments, like thieves in the night, keeping quiet and hiding from everyone's eyes. How much had he longed to hold her hand, kiss her lips, embrace her whenever the urge overcomes him. But no, he had always had to fight it. Cersei and him can only be together in the cover of the dark. And even then it was always hurried, short and never quite enough for him. Now it seemed even the stolen moments are out of his reach.

He asked her, he pleaded with her to come take his hand. He'll take her away, far from all the prying eyes. He told her they can make a home for themselves where their father can't find them, where they can be man and woman free to love each other. But Cersei shook his hold on her hand. She laughed and called him a fool.

'There's nowhere father can't find us, Jaime.' She said with bitter scorn.

It might be hard to find such a place but he knows it's not impossible. She just had to say the word and he'll make it possible. But she didn't want that. Whatever she wanted it was clear that she would get it even without him.

His laugh sounded foreign to his own ears and then he realized he wasn't laughing anymore. The pained sob he heard was from no one else but him. He fought it off, unwilling to break down in front of this stranger, the stranger whose name is the only thing he knew of. The stranger who had witnessed one too many vulnerable moments of his. He looked at Brienne.

Brienne stood like a deer caught in the headlights. She looked stricken and once more stunned. Her eyes so blue and so bright were wide open and her wide fleshy mouth agape in bewildered silence.

And the sobbing stopped, the laughter started again.

'Close your mouth, wench. You look ridiculous if not ugly.' He laughed and wiped the tear leaking at the corner of his eye.

The large woman closed her mouth immediately into a firm line, never quite thin enough despite pressing it close so tight the color ran out of it. She stood straighter and seemed bigger than she already was.

'Go home, Jaime.' She commanded in a voice that couldn't be rebuked.

And he could only nod when the laugh had subsided.

He opened the door to leave her tiny apartment. But he stopped before he stepped outside.

'I will not speak a word of it. None. Your business is not my concern. You have my word.' Brienne said before he could say anything again. Whatever he was planning to say had caught in his throat. He nodded in silent assent.

He watched as she closed her door as soon as he stepped out into the corridor.

'Goodnight, wench.' He said to the closed door and made his way to his car.

The scattered papers of sketches were still there where he had left them. The whirlwind of things the past couple of weeks had not touched his home. His house was mockingly empty just like how he was inside.

She hadn't contacted him and he hadn't fallen to the urge to call him. Some nights he can even delude himself that he wanted to hear her voice, to see her face, to touch her skin. Some days the cold shower kills the need, some late nights it doesn't.

And he succumbs into thinking of her, her mouth, her body. Writhing underneath him, sighing and moaning when he touches her. He knew her body so well, he knows were to touch to make her body sing, to make her wet and fervent for him, for his touches, for his cock. Some nights he can imagine her so vividly he could almost taste her skin but his hands were never quite the same as her cunt, and he would always cum furiously and still feel bereft, unsated, unfulfilled.

Her image is getting harder to conjure as bitterness and anger consumes him. And there was nothing to stoke the memories but his mind.

Cersei had always refused to come over his place, he was always supposed to come to her, meet her elsewhere.

Maybe that was all for the better, maybe it's better that none of her was in his home, nothing to be constantly reminding him of what's not there anymore.

But he was fooling himself, Cersei was under his skin.

Maybe there will come a time when she won't be there anymore, someday. Maybe.

It was with those thoughts that he let himself be taken in by sleep. Emotionally and physically tired, slumber lured him in. Green eyes haunting him.

He clambered for another drink, the number of bottles he had lost count already. He kicked the littering charcoaled papers stubbing her toe in the process. He was cursing everything that was holy when a knock cut his call for bloody murder for anything solid in the world.

'Jaime, fucking open the door, big bro!' His brother's ever polite words shouted from the front door. 'You know I will bulldoze this door if you don't open it!' The little imp threatened.

He opened the door none too gently.

'Well, hello there little bro.' He greeted with a slur.

'I'd like to revel on this moment. I never thought this day would come when I can say you're looking fucking horrible, bro.' His brother said as he pushed his way to cross his threshold. For some reason he remembered Brienne.

'Please, make yourself comfortable.' He quipped sarcastically.

He found his brother frowning his big forehead at his living room, scanning the mess which was his home.

'I knew you'd be a disaster with all things considered.' Tyrion said resignedly. He shook his head as if disappointed and yet understanding.

'Fuck you.' He ignored his younger brother as he made his way to his original destination before Tyrion barged in. He grabbed another unknown bottle from his counter, poured himself a drink and poured another one for his brother.

'At least you still know how to be a proper host,' Tyrion commented as he took the poured drink for him. 'Although, the scruff is a little over the top.' Tyrion motioned at the beard he had not taken notice and had let grown. Cersei hated it, Cersei would have hated it if she would only care to see him. But she didn't.

'Someone have to keep the tradition. It seemed to be out of fashion these days.' He said dryly as he gulped down the amber liquid and poured himself another one enjoying the bitter taste that matched how he felt.

'How long are you going to keep this up, Jaime?' His brother's voice was serious, a quick turn about and he knew concern was there but he couldn't help but lash out at the half-pitying voice.

'As long as I fucking want! I'll use all Lannister gold to buy all the alcohol in the world and no one can stop me.'

'Jaime-.'

'Did father send you here? If he did, tell him to go burn in hell. All seven of them. And he can take his money with him for all I care.'

He heard Tyrion more than see him approach where he had walked towards the window. He felt the punch of his smaller fist than any grown man. His younger brother's frustration was clear on his face.

'When will you fucking grow up, Jaime? You knew that you and Cersei were never gonna go anywhere. This would have happened whether you want it or not, if not now, it will eventually.'

'I know!' He shouted. 'I know!' He murmured.

Tyrion didn't say anything further but even without saying they both knew what was eating him inside. The fact that Cersei didn't even fight for it even if it had failed. It seemed in the end she had always meant to do this. He felt used. And wondered if he was ever loved. Tyrion knew without being told that Cersei had refused to see him, avoided him, and outright ignored him.

'She loves you.' He stared at his brother. 'She does, she did. In her own way, Jaime. That I believe.'

'Not that it mattered in the end.' The admittance was just as painful when he first told of it to himself. It felt like it will always be painful.

'Not that it mattered to her, you're right. So why do you continue to let her control you like this?' Concern, spite, and other things were in his brother's voice.

'What else is there for me to do, Tyrion? It had always been her. Just her.'

'Do something that you love, something you love more than her.' Tyrion held out a wrinkled paper out to him.


	7. Chapter 7

'For how long are you going to ignore me, wench?' He asked as he went around the maze of her organize chaos. He was once again looking over every piece of work she had accumulated in the small storage room she was able to make as her own. It was dark and not ventilated well but her choices were minute to nil.

'Until you make yourself disappear.' She drowned his reply with the sound of her electric saw. The man had not explained himself as to why he was there when he first appeared hald an hour ago. She had asked once and he just grinned at her when he entered the small space before he began walking around.

She did point out that it was her space but he retorted that the wing where they were in is named after their family hence it gave him the right to be anywhere he deemed going.

Brienne thought that she was rid of the Lannisters. As long as she keeps her promise of silence and avoid them, not that they move in the same circles so it won't be too hard, she wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. But apparently she was wrong. She denied the foreboding idea of affinity forming in her head. She was pretty sure that despite the jovial appearance and her last encounter of Jaime Lannister at her home that the golden twins had forgotten what she had witnessed. Most especially Cersei Lannister.

It seemed that Jaime got tired of being ignored. She soon found him standing before her as he unplugged her machine.

'You do know it's not smart to ignore your patrons, don't you?' He gave her a disapproving look.

'Last time I checked you weren't my patron.' She said making to grab the plug again from his hand.

'Well, I suppose you don't check the list often enough.' His smirk was patronizing as he plugged the machine and stepped away.

She clamored to turn it off before she removed the safety goggles from her eyes. Jaime was back to surveying the carved banisters laid out over her ragged table.

'What do you mean?' She asked and it was her turn to be ignored. Jaime, the oaf, walked and looked and pried like he had all the time in the world. She supposed it was her own making. But after not hearing his answer she just decided to let it go. He would tell her if he wanted to and he won't if he doesn't want to.

Brienne had learned long ago to not push things that were out of her hands to decide for. She had learned how to let go of things that refused to be within her control.

'What? You're giving up that easily?' Jaime asked half frustrated and half amused when she turned around and made to grab her goggles again.

'I'm never to forcing people.' She retorted.

'All that muscle and never used for coercion, huh?' She refused to even justify his barb with a retort.

She heard him sigh before walking towards her again.

'You make me repeat myself so often and you don't give me the same courtesy.' He said exasperation clear on his face.

'I never did ask for it.' She said with a shrug.

'Brienne, Brienne. If you're going to be working for me, you have to at least treat me nicely. Or at least kiss the ground I walk on.' He teased.

'I'm not working for you.' Brienne reiterated again unfazed. She definitely wasn't in his employ. In fact she wasn't in anyone's employ.

She knew she needed to be sending her completed portfolio to design houses in the capital. But she hadn't much to Margaery's chagrin. After the encounter with Red Ronnet two years ago she has doubts she would be taken seriously in King`s Landing maybe even the whole east of Westeros or farther. Just thinking of that mortifying night makes her skin crawl and cold.

It was only because of the encouraging and prodding of Dean Stark that she managed to push through the last semesters to graduate. It didn`t help too that her father had hinted of wanting to have her back in Tarth. Evenstar Furniture might be more conservative and practical than what she leans into doing but her father still need all the help he could get.

Selwyn Tarth might never say it outright especially when his only daughter had pleaded in the first place to be allowed to go to the mainland to study. Aside from the cost of sending her into the city, her father had always been a tad protective of her after losing his wife and son to an accident twelve years ago. After that it had only just been him and her, and the nosy Mrs. Roelle. She misses her father too and she very well knows that her father shares the sentiment.

But despite all the sound reason why she should be making her way back to Evenfall Hall and her lack of prospect for a job she still couldn't decide to leave the city behind. For three years, she had built a life for herself here and no matter how shabby her little apartment is, it was still hers.

'Well you will if you're as smart as you are big, wench.' He said with an incline of his head.

'Just tell me what you mean. I have much work to do, Mr. Lannis-.'

'Jaime.' He pressed.

'Jaime. I have things to do, important things.' She stressed saying his name with a glare to his direction.

Jaime whipped out from his back pocket a folded piece of paper.

'I bet it's not as important as signing up a contract with the Lannisters.' He said with a wide grin.

Her jaw dropped. And Jaime seemed to take it as compliment as he grinned ready to thump his chest in boast.

'You're not serious,' she whispered as she took the paper with shaking hands.

'Read it and see for yourself.'

She quickly scanned the document. And true enough it was an offer for a position as an apprentice designer for Lannister corps' auxiliary company. There was nothing that the corporation hadn't touched. It was often said that more than half the gold running the country was of Lannister's making, mined, refined, and minted.

'B-but I didn't apply.' She said dumbfounded as she looked up at Jaime Lannister who was still grinning down at her.

'Do you know what my job is in the company?' He asked at her with a raised brow.

She could only shake her head. She has no idea at all as she had never been interested. But truth be told she wouldn't have been surprise if Jaime Lannister's sole job was to wear suits and grin the whole day. There's got to be some business profit coming out from that.

Even in casual clothes such as jeans and a simple pullover shirt that he was wearing, Jaime still looked as golden as he was when she first encountered him. But now that she looked however she did see a bit of a change in him, his beard had grown out and his face looked thinner than what she remembered from a few weeks ago. If she would care to analyze further she might even say he looked haggard.

Jaime laughed deprecatingly for her and Brienne could guess that a bit was for himself.

'I'll have you know that I work as Creative Director. Very vague I know, the title doesn't matter half as much. What matter is what I do.' He took a seat or more like leaned on to a relatively empty but hardly clean ledge on the wall.

'And what is it that you do?' Might she try to deny it, she was half hooked already with just the prospect of a job offer. It is after all a job offer from Lannister group. She couldn't even begin to aspire to work for anyone more than her father's own shop just a few minutes ago much less to such a big and well known company.

'I discover talents. That's what I do, Brienne Tarth.' He smirked. 'You've just got a one way ticket to success.'

She was at a loss for words. It was an opportunity too grand for her to imagine but it was there and Jaime looked serious or as serious he could possibly be with his proverbial smirk. The paper on her hand had the official seal and she reread it again. It was crumpled from being in his back pocket but it was real and solid in her hands.

'I'm supposed to go back to Tarth.' She murmured more to herself than to the man who was grinning, completely self-satisfied. But she knew that the option of going back to her home island had been an option she was hesitant to make, and every second the idea was getting blurrier, a mere vignette to the clear vision of her designing and creating that could possibly reach people she never imagined to reach out for.

'Don't be ridiculous, wench. You've just been handed the best offer you could ever hope for. With this offer, my own recommendation to boot, even Ronnet can't do a thing.' The mention of Ronnet Connington threw cold water to her quickly heating up aspirations.

'You knew.' She murmured.

'I didn't initially. Ronnet is not someone I concern myself with, the rat. But I do my research.' He said with a shrug.

Jaime knew and yet still there was an offer in her hand. Ronnet Connington made sure to sully her reputation every chance he got not to add the public humiliation he did at her very first exhibit. The man had widely ridiculed her work and snubbed every piece she put forward. All for the fact that she did not so readily agreed for him to represent him.

When Ronnet first appeared she was so new to the city and had only made very few pieces to show up for. She was so unsure and insecure barely an adult. Still but he took notice of her and her work. He was extremely nice and gallant, at a point she almost thought he was trying to woo her. But when he proposed that she sign up a contract with him where her work will be branded under Griffin's Roost she was unable to agree right away. It wasn't of any belief for something amiss but how thankful was she for her meekness that caused her to pause. Ronnet Connington proved to be an impatient man and cruel too. From that point on, he tried to subtlety thwart opportunities for her and insulted her personally whenever they cross paths.

'A small fry like Connington can't mess with the big guns, you know. But I must commend him for taking notice of your work not that he would have done you any good. The rat is an ass. A stupid red donkey.' Jaime spat with an obvious dislike for the said man. Brienne refused to think that his anger was in her behalf.

She couldn't help but giggle as she imagined Ronnet's very red hair and donkey face. He once ridiculed her for looking uglier than a horse.

'I take that as acquiescence then. You will sign the contract and Lannister corp will be your official broker and dealer.' Jaime Lannister smiled at her and something in her chest loosened. A sense of relief flooded her and moistness filled the back of her eyelids.

'Don't cry, wench. You'd only look uglier.' He commented but still with the beaming smile, his golden mane looking like a halo at that very moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Jaime found himself waking up early that day. Before he could pause to think what he was doing he was already half way to Brienne's studio.

The past few days ever since he insisted the wench to move out of the dingy storage room she'd been working in, he had been finding himself loitering on her work space more and more.

Brienne insisted in staying in Flea Bottom which he couldn't quite understand why. Flea Bottom with its long history of being a grass roots district has very few offerings for an artisan if only for cheap accommodation and distracting noise. But the wench refused to move out of her tiny apartment and said she'd rather not commute.

The studio was really a worn down warehouse. It looked like it was ready to be torn down if not the wench's offer to rent it out from the land owner.

Upon arriving at the Street of Flour once known for a number of pot shops which is now lined by low-cost housing he found the streets to be empty still in the early morning. But he knew there will be someone out and true enough he spotted the large form of Brienne out for her morning walk. He slowly drover to her side and opened the side window of his car.

'Good morning, wench!' He greeted cheerfully.

'Morning,' she grumbled and continued on running. She was already on her cool down as they approach her studio.

Brienne didn't ask why he was there. As a matter of fact she had stopped asking on the third day. He had to praise her restraint or lack of curiosity which he find quite interesting on an artist. Brienne is a paradox on her own.

She unlocked the door adeptly. He was still quite amused by the fact that she insists to lock the door with a heavy chain that many would find cumbersome to even lift. She said that it deters would be thieves or those who just wants to mess around. It sounded like she had more experience about more than others so he just dropped the argument but never fails to point out her freakish strength whenever she so easily moves it around.

She grabbed a bottle of water and mopped the sweat on her face with a waiting towel.  
He had noticed already how painfully fastidious the wench could be. In her work space everything might appear like a disorganized mess but she always finds things whenever she needed it with precision.

She soon disappeared to the sorry excuse of a bathroom that was ill fitted with a shower. It was hard to imagine her fitting under the shower, her shoulder hunched to get the water to sluice over her body, harder still would be to get her straw colored hair under it to wet and wash away the sweat she worked out with her daily early morning run.

He sat in one of the sofa she was tufting facing the direction where she had disappeared. He looked at the closed door and pictured her behind it. He couldn't help wondering how much of her skin was covered by the same freckles that litter her face. He had noticed that her freckles had been getting darker more so on the bridge of her nose and at the apples of her cheeks.

He was startled when the closed door opened and Brienne stopped upon catching him looking directly at her.

'Is there any problem?' She asked as she brusquely dried her hair.

Jaime shook his head as an answer momentarily stunned upon realizing just what he was thinking about. But the mental image was clear on his head, he had gone as far as thinking her freckles dusting her shoulders and running after the other on her back.

Brienne started to brew coffee. It was then that he realized that the once barren space was slowly turning more comfortable each passing day. The wench had seemed to be moving more of her appliance and other necessities from her apartment to her working studio.

She might not fancy talking to him but she still made a cup of coffee for him which she left on the table before she sipped her own and headed to a stack of magazine and books. She simply flipped through the pages just like the past few mornings he had witnessed of her.

He sipped his own coffee and found himself watching the wench again.

'You've been staring.' Brienne said breaking the silence.

'I'm bored.' He quipped finishing his coffee.

Brienne closed the magazine she was reading. He didn't quite catch the title of it but he noticed her flipping through it the other day as well. He didn't even realize he remembered it.

'If you're bored why don't you go somewhere else to do something more productive?'

He just shrugged for an answer which Brienne acknowledged with a roll of her eyes.

Truth be told he didn't exactly know why he was there. The first time he went to visit her after just the second day she had moved in to the warehouse as a whim to bug her, he soon found it quite relaxing, the rhythmic sound of her moving and the noise of her machinery and tools were enough noise to drown his own thoughts. She also was not nosy or chatty at all which he found quite a nice change over the babble of people who he used to regularly associate with.

He knew that she wasn't exactly thrilled to have him looking over her shoulder but in her own way she did concede to the fact that it was him that made all these possible for her. But he knew as well that had he not discovered her, with the promising style and skill Brienne would have been easily found out by someone else. Not that he'll ever tell her that lest she use it against him to throw him out.

The lack of television and radio, even phone signal was a reprieve and an escape that he needed to impose of himself. He is a coward wanting quiet but finally admitted his fear of being alone.

Tyrion had advised him to do something he loves more than Cersei. Him and Tyrion might have stopped spending time together as they used to do but his brother still knew him well, might even have known him better than Cersei, he admits.

He remembered staring at the wrinkled sketch that he made, it was the drawing he did at the first bout of inspiration that niggled at him until he was able to ooze it out of his hands via charcoal. When he first encountered Brienne.

Brienne had begun carving, the sound of her mallet hitting the machete filled the stillness. He walked towards her in a respectful distance knowing that she gets annoyed when he gets too close. He had received a glare so fierce once before he had to bolster himself with extra dose of cockiness.

It was an ornate door out of cherry wood. He was startled how much progress she had made in just a matter of days.

'Wench, how long have you been working on that?' He exclaimed.

Brienne gave him a pointed stare.

'Three days,' she answered.

'Three days? It looks like you've worked on it for a full week!' The door wasn't close to finish but the bigger parts of it had fully bloomed to show off the main character of the elaborate design.

'Well, I couldn't sleep.' She murmured stopping her hammering for a second before resuming again.

'Couldn't sleep? Have you been staying here for the past few days?' Brienne didn't answer but he was sure she could hear him. She was prodding a particular etch of a curlicue with a bowed head seemingly embarrassed.

He didn't understand why she was turning red and then it dawned on him.

'Couldn't sleep.' He mused and paused. 'Wench don't tell me you were too excited like a boy before his first fuck!' He exclaimed tauntingly.

'Oh, shut it Lannister.' She retorted but with less ire than usual and more reddening of the face. 'So what if I am excited. You should be happy about that. Your lowly peon is being productive.'

'But you're acting like a kid,' he laughed at her like it was the height of humor. But despite his japing he found it ridiculously fitting for her to act as such. She was big and tall, bigger and taller than most if not all of the people he knows off. Her size could give an impression of a full adult but upon deeper inspection Brienne is still young.

The stubborn tilt of her head and the stalwart retorts she fitfully springs at him somehow always felt refreshing however annoying.

Even if he'd only known Brienne for a short amount of time the little things he had found out about her revealed to be the paradox. She was stubborn with the insistence of maturity and independence but at the same time those very same characteristics are what made her more childlike and innocent.

The wench deemed it appropriate to ignore him once again. He is probably a fool for letting the likes of her ignore him. But then again to not be fawned or be gossiped about was something he's really starting to like.

With a smirk and shake of his head that Brienne didn't bother to see, he chose to sit on the chair she had abandoned and picked up the magazine that she was reading.

As he flipped through the pages and soothed by the sounds of her working he started feeling the familiar itch on his hand. He stopped and stared at it. He let the delightful pain of fervently needing to draw, to make, to create.

He stood up and rummaged the wench's desk. The sound of hammering stopped and knew Brienne was watching him.

'Lend me a pen and paper, wench.'

'Help yourself.' She pointed to the stack of recycled paper on a box and he grabbed almost half a ream sure that the amount won't be missed. He returned to the chair he was sitting on and pulled a work bench piled with more of her magazines that he was sure weren't there a couple of days ago.

It was uncomfortable but he didn't notice it much especially once his fingers started moving. He would have laugh if he had the luxury of stopping the ideas spilling out from his brain. Sheets after sheet of paper started piling on the floor as he continuously draw. The exhilaration of finding inspiration that for some years now had run dry was almost enough to make him breathless but he couldn't afford to cut concentration.

He can't remember now when he stopped drawing, his home studio had been nothing but a room where a lot of pretending happened. He hadn't created anything tangible for so long now he couldn't even remember the last time he did ever produce any.

But he had not time to think of when it stopped for at that very moment it began again. What was it that made it rev? He'll just think of it some other time maybe.

He was engrossed with sketching that he had lost track of time. He drew to the sound of Brienne's tools, he sketched alongside her hammering, her pauses and her silence. He was only awoken from the trance when Brienne slipped a plate on top of the books and magazines beside him.

She started when he looked up upon catching her move in his periphery.

'Food.' It was a sandwich, hardly what he'd call decent food. 'It's already 9.' He heard his stomach grumble.

'Nine? Morning?' He asked gingerly.

She shook her head. 'Night.'

'Damn.' He dropped the pen and felt the stiffening of his fingers as soon as it loosened away from the object. 'Sixteen hours? A record, for sure.'

'Sure was.' Brienne commented. When he looked up at her there was something different in her blue eyes. Maybe it was just him imaging things but somehow he saw admiration in them.


	9. Chapter 9

Jaime came back. And she knew it was time for supper.

'Food, wench.' He said as he laid out the containers on a cleared table just a few steps from her jigging table.

He was grinning at her when she finally dusted off her hands and approached the heaping surface.

'I thought you poor soul. To not have tried this beef bourguignon from Cobbler's Square is beyond me!' It was a few days ago that they came to the subject of food. Jaime had been spending much of his free and not so free time in her warehouse studio. Margaery in the handful of times she visited had pointed out how odd it was to see Jaime Lannister loitering abouts comfortably in her space whilst the whole King's Landing and beyond was wondering where he had been making himself scarce.

He took her once initiative to provide meal for him as another mistake on her part at his expense. Jaime righteously pointed out how he was being ill fed in her presence as if it was her duty to keep him nourished when he invades what should be her private time. The sole extent of her cooking skill was to slap two pieces of bread with meat and a passable cheese in between. So she just glares at him every time he complains and yet he refuses to make his own meal.

But a couple of days later he came in the morning carrying a bag of food and a full size refrigerator was delivered a few hours later. She just stared as he stuffed all the food he brought inside the cooling device.

Most of the foods were cooked meals ordered from what she guessed to be the best of the best of King's Landing's food scene. A microwave was deftly added to her growing almost kitchen corner. They had both realized that they were simply useless in using a device such as the stove aside from heating water or an occasional pot of soup. Jaime admonished her for the lack of 'feminine' cooking skills and she clocked him on the head for being a sexist.

Despite her initial irritation of his continuing presence almost every day she had grown used to it. However she might deny it, they had unwittingly made a routine of their day. Every morning for the last couple of months he would arrive just after her morning run, they would drink the coffee that she had made and get to working on whatever project she felt like doing for the day while he quietly sat on her lone seating chair crouched sketching on the stack of paper she kept.

Most of the time they both miss lunch when they are so engrossed with their works and it will be much later in the afternoon when one of them would get up from their work areas to grab any easily prepared food in the fridge. As soon as the other stand the other would immediately follow. The occasion is usually quiet with no unneeded chatter just a comfortable pause of a few minutes, a quarter of an hour at the most. Although sometimes Jaime would let a smart mouth comment that she would ignore with a roll of her eyes.

But it was during the second week when Jaime lingered longer than usual, previous days prior to that particular night he would leave after dusk. Jaime roused her from sanding and asked if she would like some pizza for dinner. She just shrugged having not much planned her evening meals instead more often than not opting to eat trail mix while she works until the clock strikes past midnight or when her eyes starts to droop.

Ever since then, Jaime had stayed for supper and she was delegated to prepare midday meal. It was during one of such meals that Jaime targeted again her incompetence in the kitchen. He applauded her hammering skills which apparently make a good sound but her hand and arm dexterity as he pointed out doesn't extend to knife or ladles.

'Sometimes, wench I think you're just lazy for anything womanly.' He commented in between a mouthful of pasta that she warmed up in the microwave in set plates.

'Just shut up and eat, Jaime.' She had gotten used to calling him by name if only to be more curt, his last name after all is three syllables too long.

'I'm serious and I think it's something that someone needs to point out to you. You seem oblivious to the fact. I almost pity Margaery's efforts.' He continued pertaining to one of Margaery's visit chiding her for her dirty nails. In her defence there's no use to clean up her nails if they will only get dirty while she varnish or paint or handle her many tools. 'You could probably look half decent if you just comb your hair and powder your nose.' He nodded to himself as if convinced that it was the solution that will solve all her problems.

Brienne tried to breathe in and out to calm herself down and not be baited. They both knew, she was sure, that he didn't believe that but the arsehole just like to annoy her with his pompous comments.

'And maybe if you dress a little bit better. A better fitting jeans? You have really long legs, legs that goes on forever, it's quite ridiculous!' He ranted and she stared at him like he had gone insane. He probably realized it himself as well as he halted from ranting and cleared his throat awkwardly. 'Uhm, so yeah. Long.' He finished dumbly.

'If you have a problem with how I look you don't have to look at me. You're free to leave, be my guest as a matter of fact. My face won't change with a few or a million runs of a comb just so you know.' She supplied. 'And you're no chef yourself so can you quit giving me grief for cooking? I've fed myself well enough with my 'lazy' womanly skills as you so put it.' She dropped her fork losing her appetite and left the table. 'Clean up.'

She didn't want his comments to affect her but he just did. She had long accepted her ungifted looks and had long won over losing sleep about it. But for some reason hearing Jaime Lannister, golden boy extraordinaire, give suggestions on how to pretty herself up to be at least 'half-decent' just makes her want to clock him several times over. Such comments were so often directed at her that she had built up resistance and learned to not stoke the taunters. Or so she thought.

She went back to her horse table and grabbed any tool her hand could get a hold of and with much more strength than warranted, started chipping on the woodblock in front of her unable to defuse the growing upset in her.

She felt more than heard him approach her. He sat a couple of feet away from where she was working, legs splayed with his hands loosely clamp and hanging in between his corded thighs. Refusing to look at him directly, she continued to obliviously ruining a good piece of wood.

'I didn't mean to offend you, wench.' He said, Brienne paused and glared at the woodblock. 'Are you upset?'

She didn't reply but felt a bit calmer. Logically, Jaime is much a stranger still despite the time they have spent together almost every day the past few months but her senses seemed to have believed him when he said he didn't mean to upset her.

'Well, don't ever do it again.' She consented finally meeting his eyes.

He grinned at her. 'But you really do need to comb your hair.'

She grabbed a handful of chipped wood and threw it at him.

It was after that day that Jaime decided to regale her of all the best food of the country. She knew it was still his way of apologizing without saying the words. He lamented the fact that she had yet to try so many delicacies he deemed must haves before dying. Thus leading to that particular meal.

'It looks like bowl o' brown to me,' she grimaced upon looking at the bowl he had opened at the table. The scent of it however made her stomach grumble.

Jaime laughed but ladled a bowlful for her.

'Just give it a try, wench. It is sure worth it.' He said pushing the bowl unto her hands encouragingly. She stared at it longer before taking a spoonful into her mouth.

She chewed at the tender meat and savoured the taste of it. It was warming especially on that cold rainy night. Honestly she had never been fed as well as this in a very long time.

Jaime wasn't lying or exaggerating after all. It was so good, the meat was so tender, and the depth of flavour was something she couldn't comprehend but could only appreciate. She didn't realize that she was letting hums of appreciation escape her lips until she heard Jaime coughing as if choking.

He was sitting right across from her with the same bowl in front of him which he deftly lowered on his lap as he stared at her.

'Something the matter?' She asked inquiringly while spooning another helping to her mouth. She licked the bit of sauce on her spoon enthusiastically.

He shook his head vehemently and got up after a few seconds looking bewildered and alarmed.

'Is everything okay, Jamie?' She asked getting up herself and putting down her bowl and tried to approach him.

'No, no! Don't get up! I'm okay,' he was panicking now that she couldn't help but feel panicked as well. 'Seven hells!'

'Jaime!' She exclaimed trying to catch the bowl that was in his hand but he startled away and effectively dropping the full bowl.

'I'll be back!' He said without meeting her eyes and an uncharacteristic redness in the face as he ran off to the bathroom leaving her confused as seven hells as to what had happened.

Jaime slammed the door of the bathroom loudly.


	10. Chapter 10

It's been three days since he last saw Brienne. It's been more than 70 hours since he shut himself inside her tiny bathroom like prepubescent kid with unwarranted horniness hungry to bite his ass off.

He might have laughed out his innards if not for the very real hard on he sported just from merely watching the wench eat a stew the color of bowl o' brown.

And she said it looked disgusting!

He couldn't help thinking he must be bewitched or probably just experiencing withdrawals. It's been too long since he'd last had sex. And his imagination of viable jacking off material had regrettably dwindled down to almost nothing. As a matter of fact he had stopped trying to conjure images of Cersei, realizing that only bitterness was inspired by thoughts of her.

Maybe that was it. For the past months, Brienne was the closest female thing that he had been around with and so far from Cersei's image. Maybe his poor appendage had been hurt so much that anything close to what Cersei is would be something to inspire much needed release. That could only be it.

It's not true that big boned, muscular, plain faced Brienne could have inspired such a massive hard on, a hard on that refused to be ignored until he let himself let go.

Brienne's concerned voice from the other side of the door was unwittingly used to lead him to a completion that was not satisfying but at the very least soothing. He had felt embarrassed that he couldn't meet her blue eyes when he finally deemed himself calm enough to open the door.

Brienne was sitting on her work bench when he finally emerged, distractedly sanding a foot of a bedstead. He groaned at the blasted image which startled her.

Only a hasty goodbye was said before he bolted out the door and into his car. And it had been three days ever since that most confusing moment of his life. It was more confusing than when Cersei suggested he kissed her on the mouth on their 13th nameday.

He's discomfited to see the wench again but at the same time he wanted to go back and reclaim the safe haven he had made for himself in her workspace. He blames her for ruining everything and of course none of it was his fault. It was her who ate that stew like it was some sort of a seduction act, licking and moaning. Who was she trying to seduce? It wasn't like anyone would fall for her act?

But who was he kidding? Brienne had followed him out even when he refused to look back when she called for him as he got into his car. She just looked worried and concerned with no idea to half of what he did inside her bathroom. She didn't know how he had clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt just to stifle the groan ripping out of his lungs. She had no idea how he stared amazed and with self-disgust at the substantial proof of his wayward lust on her shower stall. She was innocent to all of it. Damn her!

He felt thirsty for something potent. It had been more than 2 months since he last had anything alcoholic. In fact it had been as long as he had started working with Brienne. She begins working so early in the morning that he had stopped having night caps so he would wake up just as early, and to be honest he hadn't felt the need to drink when his mind was so preoccupied with sketching and designing. He laughed at the irony of it, the same reason he had stopped drinking is now the very same one pushing him back to the bottle.

He gripped the bottle by the neck and stared at it with all the frustration directed to Brienne.

He let out a frustrated groan before he released his tight hold on the bottle and closed his eyes tightly with a heavy breath.

He can't be hiding here. He just can't. And he refuses to allow Brienne into pushing him back to seclusion. He refuses to give her that much power over him. He'd go back there and act as if nothing had happened, for all he knows it was just a fluke.

He just had to remember to take his baser needs once in a while and not let his lust go without tending. Maybe he might pick up a girl once in a while. He was in no need of a relationship or any complication. Especially now that he had been mulling the idea of actually making his designs more than images on paper. He had been considering asking the wench to collaborate and help him out in bringing them to life. So no, he can't be mucking around what he have with Brienne.

Decided, he stood up and made for his jacket and his keys. He refuses to acknowledge the excitement at finally mustering nerves to see the wench again amongst many other things he refused to admit at that moment.

With a spring to his step he pulled his door open just to be surprised on who was standing behind it.

'Cersei.' Stunned would be an understatement upon looking at his twin standing resplendent in her usual poised stance.

'Jaime,' her rouged lips pulled into an alluring smile that was so familiar and yet so foreign to him. 'Brother.' She whispered breathily.

'What are you doing here?' He uttered impatiently that both surprised the two of them.

The seductive smile on her lips immediately disappeared and the familiar glowering yet still beautiful face immerged.

'Is that all what you have to say to me? We haven't seen each other in months, Jaime!' She hissed as she pushed her way in to his house ignoring the fact that he didn't invite her in. He didn't even think she wanted her there.

He closed the door begrudgingly as he followed her.

He didn't quite picture her visit to be quite like this but somehow it was all appropriate. Cersei didn't look around, no curiosity to how he live.

'You haven't contacted me in months, Jaime.' She remarked reproachingly as she sat herself on his wingchair looking much like a queen and him her subject.

'What for?' He answered testing.

'What for?' He watched her gripped the arm of the chair. 'Am I nothing to you now, Jaime?'

'You are to me what I am to you, sister. Go figure.' He said drily and realized how true his statement was.

'Don't be absurd, Jaime. You know how important you are to me.' Cersei chided.

'Well, that doesn't seem to be the case. Was I just imagining the fact that you discarded me like a used condom when you started sucking Baratheon's cock?' He grated in mocking derision. He couldn't deny the pleasure upon seeing her at least flinch at his scornful words.

'I did what I had to do.' She said defensively. 'You know it was my only choice!'

'You mean, it was the only choice you wanted to take.' He reminded himself of the choice she chose to do, she chose her ambition over him. She made it clear that what he could offer was nothing close than what Robert Baratheon could give her.

'I—I chose my dream but I didn't-,' halting for words was so unlike her it was almost disconcerting. She kept holding his gaze, unbending and unthwarted. 'I did not abandon you, Jaime. I did not.' She shook her head fervidly in denial.

'I seem to remember the events quite differently, sister.' He said unable to mask the pain of her desertion.

She got up on her feet and approached him frugally, her face melting out the remorse and replaced by tenderness he alone begets from her or so he wants to believe. She raised her hands as if calling forth for him to come closer. He felt compelled but steeled himself.

He saw her stare at him and they both waited for a few beats and it seemed he won the contest of wills when Cersei conceded and bridged the remaining space between them.

'Jaime, I've missed you.' Cersei whispered as she placed her palm on his chest. Her hands were warm and an awakening sensation crawled in his vein, feint and quickly building, roaring from the small triumph of having her come to him. And she knew it as her fingers reached up his neck, wrapping her slender arms around him. 'I missed you so much.' He didn't win as so much as she chose to forfeit.

He angled his head away as she kissed his neck right where his pulse beat erratically. He could feel her smile on his skin, she reveled in the control that she had, has, over him.

He hated it and yet still he couldn't push her away.

His hands took a life of their own when they caressed her body, felt her familiar lithe form pressed against his. He felt the stirring in his loin as she gyrated against him. She was melting against his touch as she always did whenever she let him.

He groaned when she felt Cersei's hand on his crotch making easy work of his fly. It was all so familiar that it was just easy to succumb to the lust between the two of them. Sex with Cersei had always been scaldingly scorching. He pressed himself into her touch and she expertly controlled his cock like she always did. The thought of another man's cock on her able hand was souring but not enough to wilt his lust.

'Did you miss this, Jaime?' She asked tauntingly, beguiling him to look down at her. Her eyes were so dark as she stared at him intently and he knew his as darkened eyes were mirroring the same carnal ache he sees in hers.

He grabbed her head and forcefully devoured her mouth. Cersei's moans caught in the fierce and painful kiss of untended lust taking over his body. One of her hands gripped his neck, her nails digging into his skin. And they were reduced to lust and fire and want.

In the haze of it all, just before he let the fire consume him he heard the door bell ring.

'Jaime!' His body froze. Cersei slipped her tongue in his open mouth as he recognized the familiar voice coming from the outside. 'Jaime is everything okay?' There was a loud knock on the door. It was the same concerned voice that dogged him as he fled three days ago.

Jaime wonders if he should be happy or not that the wench still doesn't know the sounds people make before, during, and after fucking.

Maybe he wants to be the person to teach her of them all.

He smiled.


	11. Chapter 11

She tried to ignore the quietness. She denied the pressing emptiness that gnaws every corner she turns. It came as a surprise that there was a void that was left gaping upon his disappearance. But when she swallowed that truth she thought it easy to overcome.

She believed to have overcome all the reminders that nothing was amiss but it only took one mentioning of his name before the extent of her agonizing came to light.

It was just on the second day that he didn't show up. She couldn't summon the appetite to eat or bid upon the muses to continue working. She didn't realize that she had been absently going from station to station without much purpose when Margaery called her out on it.

It was her friend who pointed at the big pink elephant in the room.

'Where's your Lannister?' Margaery inquired as she leafed through the piled works Jaime had left behind. Brienne had arranged them neatly more than a couple of times the first day he didn't show up.

She had seen him drew a lot of them but never did quite had the chance to openly admire them apart from that very first time he sat and worked along with her. Absentmindedly, she traced the contours of his designs. It varied from sculpture ideas, busts and abstracts, to shoes and clothing a probable product of his sister Cersei Lannister. Some were just patterns for fabric or for wallpaper, intricate landscapes, glass and vases design, he designed for so many art forms that it made her mind reel at the extent of his ideas. He was always so engrossed when he worked and she never saw fit to disturb him but to see the products of his almost maniacal outputs she couldn't help but be astounded more.

There were rough sketches of their warehouse as well, a handful of them included an image of her. It was hard to look at those ones. She was pulled and at the same time repulsed to look at them.

Brienne was sure that from his seat to where she worked on a particular sketch, he should have only seen her back. But the sketch which was touched with more finished lines included her face, the grimace as she chiseled on the hardwood and the sweat pooling on the exposed collarbone and glistening on her hairline as she toiled. He had caught her in the image with her lips apart and the tip of her tongue flicking out in her usual habit. Her shoulders were bunched, wide and framed in the bedraggled shirt she was wearing, in the effort of the movement. She looked so alive, so virile, so able and manly, and at the same time she almost refused to believe the womanliness that seemed to be present as well. She wanted to see mockery but it was only an unmistakeable beauty in it.

She couldn't quite fathom how he caught all of that, if he had added things that surely shouldn't be there but going that direction could mean that he drew as how he sees her. And it seems that he saw a woman in her that many including herself hadn't seen.

She stared and absorbed it with a trickle of something unfamiliar in her gut that she thumped hard to stave. Burying it in the pile wanting to have it gone and yet unable to destroy it, she forced herself to let it go. It wasn't hers to meddle with forcing herself to believe that she was just an object in it as much as the wooden stool along with her. The tiny cinder that wanted to make a fire of itself was cogently doused.

Pensively, to put off her mind from the disquieting images she had gathered all his pens and charcoal into an empty tin can of peaches and put his sketches in a protective box container on the bench he had called his own. Conceding to the vanity she was feeling for not having him there.

It was aggravating for her to feel as if she was now dependent on his presence to be able to be productive.

She groaned at the growing restlessness and thought better to remove herself from the warehouse. Maybe in doing so the not quite longing will be alleviated.

When she did her laundry that first night after giving up on waiting for him, she hauled herself back into her apartment with a bagful of clothes. She hadn't been home for almost a week and she probably wouldn't have if her routine wasn't disturbed by Jaime's disappearance.

She stared at his ruined dress shirt that got caught on a wayward nail a few days ago. He was about to throw it out after stripping it off leaving nothing but a thin undershirt between his lean form and her poor eyes. She stared and he asked if she wanted the shirt instead.

Jaime handed it to her without care. She distractedly quipped how unreasonable rich people were which he just chuckled against at.

To any other average woman the shirt would have swallowed them whole but to her the shirt lays on her shoulder perfectly. She shook off the urge to put it on feeling silly and embarrassed from the mere thought of it.

Try as she might, she couldn't figure out as to what had triggered Jaime's odd behavior. He had been fine minutes before he had dropped a good bowl of food and ran as if the Stranger himself was after him.

She could have been conceited thinking that she knew him enough to know the bits of things that would freak him out. But Brienne knew the truth, she barely know that man. All she knows was that whatever this is with him is affecting her work and she can't have it happening most especially on this vulnerable time of her career.

She steeled herself and pulled a semi-clean shirt and coat from her pile of clothes and determinedly exited her apartment leaving the running dryer and the second load of wash she ought to do.

She'd find Jaime and clear things up. If he wanted to never show up in their warehouse then so be it but he will not just disappear with no explanation. Brienne had let him in without an explanation more than the he's just there because he wanted to but he just can't leave as easily.

She quickly dialled Dean Stark's number as she walked towards the nearest bus stop. After just a couple of rings, Dean Catelyn Stark picked up the phone.

She failed to be as polite as usual and without so much as a preamble asked for the information that she needed.

'Catelyn, I was wondering if you could give me Jaime Lannister's contact information.' Jaime and she had never so much as exchanged phone numbers, she never felt or thought that there was ever going to be a need for it.

The older woman was confused and asked her as to what she needed it for. Brienne couldn't give her a proper answer and just chose to say she had something she needed to talk about with him.

There was a rustling in the other line before another voice took over.

'Hello, Brienne.' The person greeted.

'Uhm, hello?' She answered wondering who could it possibly be.

'This is Tyrion Lannister, the other Lannister offspring of Tywin Lannister.' The baritone voice was said in a jolly manner. 'We've yet to meet but I've heard so much about you, good things as a matter of fact.'

'Uhm, thank you?' Why is Tyrion Lannister talking to her, she wondered. It seems to be really true that she had a growing affinity for the Lannisters as they seem to be popping into her life. She shivered at the thought.

'Not very talkative, someone did mention that to me.' She heard the man called Tyrion Lannister laugh good naturedly. 'So, I heard you're looking for my dear brother.'

'I am.' Her confusion was cleared upon being led back to her original intent. 'Yes, I am trying to locate Jaime.'

'Well, you are in luck! As I am the foremost authority in locating my wayward brother.' Tyrion Lannister said immodestly with a jolly good laugh.

'Thank you, Mr. Lannister.' She said profusely.

'Call me Tyrion. I have a feeling we'll be more than just acquaintances Brienne Tarth. I just feel it.'

Tyrion Lannister gave her Jaime's full address and phone number. He even offered to pick her up and drive her there but she was grateful enough to have his assistance as it is so she thanked him again before hanging up. She took the KLT underground to Cobbler's Square close to Gates of the Gods where Jaime's opulent townhome was.

She still had to walk quite a bit as public transport seems to be an unknown thing for an area with mostly well off people who drives Vhagars and Meraxes like it was the most natural thing. Jaime with his Valaryan just happens to belong if not towering of them all.

She was surprisingly let in by the sentry upon hearing her name. It seemed Tyrion had taken it upon himself to think ahead for her. She was so focus in locating Jaime that she had overlooked the semantics of things.

When she finally stopped in front of the home, she saw a shiny Vhagar parked in the driveway. She scoffed at the lavishness of it, Jaime does not only drive a Valaryan he saw fit to own a Vhagar as well. No wonder he throws away shirts with a tiny hole no one would even notice.

With a shake of her head she approached his front door. But immediately halted before quickening her steps when she heard his unmistakeable groan.

She knocked and called out for his name.

There was a commotion before she heard someone approaching the door. Soon after she saw his face peeking out.

'Jaime,' she was breathless as she took stock of him in a quick swoop as he eased out of his doorstep. Brienne sighed in relief as she find Jaime unhurt, his hair was disheveled and his beard untrimmed but he looked fine which was more than enough for her. She didn't realize how worried she had been until seeing him had washed it away.

'Brienne,' a mix of delight and uncertainty was plain on his face. 'Wench, what are you doing here?' He asked pulling the door close.

'I—I was worr-,' she wasn't able to complete her words and Jaime was unable to fully shut the door behind him when slender fingers with fiery red nails wrenched the door open.

'What the hell is she doing here, Jaime?' Brienne paled under the revolted gaze of the female Lannister, Jaime's effervescent twin sister.

Jaime, in flash had pushed her behind him and they both faced the seething Cersei Lannister.

One look at Cersei's reddened lips and Jaime's disheveled hair, Brienne realized that she really need to distinguish all different kinds of groaning. Why didn't they teach that in school?


	12. Chapter 12

Every nerve instinct in his body told him to get in between the two women. His common sense for once worked as fast as he needed it to be.

Cersei was undeniably livid as she looked at him and Brienne. He knew from the look in her eyes that she didn't appreciate his stance of siding with the wench. But truth be told it was all reflex that made him move opposite his twin sister rather than any intent to hurt her.

'Jaime, what the hell is she doing here?' Cersei hissed. He couldn't answer right away as he wasn't too sure why Brienne was there after all. He was just as surprised.

But Cersei's mind was quickly connecting her own imagined dots. She had always been impatient for explanation and had always been quick to judge, and judge poorly she does.

'How could you! How could you, Jaime!' She was shouting which had him taken aback. Cersei never did let her temper loose in public and at that very moment all three of them were very much exposed to any one passing by. 'How could you betray me like this!' She accused with fire enough to scald his skin.

He caught Cersei's hands as she striked him with frail arms. Her nails met his skin and the sting of it was disregarded at the sudden display of vehemence and hysteria.

'Cersei,' he called onto his twin who was hysterically hissing and scratching at him. 'What is wrong with you?'

'You! You and that freak! You're planning to destroy me! You don't want me to be happy! How could you, Jaime?' Cersei's accusation stunned him.

When Cersei started lunging for Brienne who was standing frozen behind him he quickly gripped her arms tightly and pushed her and himself away from Brienne.

'Let me go!' Cersei screamed as words full of vitriol spilled from her lips for Brienne. 'You fucking freak!' He flinched at the barely intelligible and dirty insults he knew the wench or anyone for that matter did not deserve.

'Stop it!' He shouted as he shook his twin roughly.

'You're defending that ugly beast, Jaime? Are you really betraying me?' Cersei stared at him with fury, fear, and anxiety. 'I won't let you! You can't take this away from me, no one will!'

'Shut up, Cersei!' He held her firmly and turned to look at Brienne. 'Wench-.'

Brienne was just watching that two of them. He couldn't guess what she was thinking as her passive countenance remained. It was a stark difference compare to him and Cersei. Looking at Brienne his frayed patience was soothed.

But the wench turned around and started walking away without a word soon after. And the image of her turning away from him made him more fearful than the anger directed at him from his sister.

'Brienne! Wait, where are you going?' He immediately let go of Cersei to follow Brienne whose steps were speeding up turning into a jog. It took a sprint from him to finally catch up.

'It's not what you think,' it was the first words that came out of his lips upon taking hold of her arms. He wasn't even sure what the wench was thinking of the whole situation but whatever it was he knew it couldn't be for his case but rather against.

'What I think doesn't matter. And I don't care what that was all about. I'm leaving.' She said brusquely shaking his hand from her.

He stared at her and he knew it was a lie that she didn't care. Why else would she be even here?

'Jaime!' Cersei's voice bellowed from where she stood at his doorstep.

He was thorn on what to do. He knew he was doing something irreparable with Brienne and the need to quickly straighten the matter was gnawing at him but Cersei's insistent voice refused to be mollified. He had to take things one step at a time and pick his battle for now.

With a sigh he let Brienne go. The wench stared at him and for a moment he saw a bit of hurt in her blue eyes before she straightened her back and marched off. He watched as she walked farther and farther away. His feet itched to follow and stop her but his logical mind told him he couldn't at least not yet. Logic was shit for choosing that moment to press itself on him.

He took a big gulp of air and turned back at his twin sister.

Cersei upon finally seeing him looking back at her had turned around and walked back into his house fully confident that he will be following her. Always so confident he

And the wretched that he is did so.

'Explain yourself, Jaime. What was that freak doing here?' Cersei grated.

'She's no freak. If there is a freak here, it's me. The both of us.' He testily rebuffed, frustratedly combing back his hair in bottled up resentment and hurt. 'What is it that you came here for, Cersei?'

'I came here for you, Jaime! What else for? You haven't contacted me. I haven't heard back from you. I missed you. I missed us.' It was almost laughable how Cersei kept changing her mood. One moment she was placating and the next she was seething mad like the she-devil herself.

'Is there an 'us' still, Cersei? Didn't you throw that out already? I tried to reach out many times, hundreds of times, it was you who turned your back at me first and every other single time I tried to talk to you, it was you who left me out in the cold. What did you expect of me? Wait for you quietly until you decide to throw me a bone when you feel like it?' He paced the floor back and forth, his skin vibrating with the want to be elsewhere.

Cersei was once again sitting at a wingchair as untouched as she always acted in front of the cameras, so untouchable even to him at that moment. A familiar stab of hurt was felt right through his bones as he stopped and stared at Cersei.

Cersei met his gaze and all of a sudden it was once again as how they used to be, talking without words. They had always had that connection only two people who have shared a womb would ever know, an inexplicable bond that he had always felt tugging at him towards her. He had never once thought of denying that call, he willingly submitted to it, yielded and led to where they are now.

Cersei had been the center of his world for so long he was sure it had never been any other way.

But at the few seconds he looked at her he realized the cord he had always felt tied at him was willfully wielded by his twin on the other end while he was obliviously tethered. Because he loved her, still do, and will forever do.

'Jaime,' the whisper was half plea as she read the thoughts in his eyes.

He closed the space in her and crouched in front of her kneeling by her feet. He cradled her face on his palms, caressing her soft skin that was slowly getting cold as tears filled her eyes.

'No, Jaime. No,' she whispered with sorrow and disbelief.

'My sister, how I loved you.' He whispered as quietly.

'You love me.' She argued.

'I do.' He leant down their foreheads together as they so often did many times since they were children and maybe even when they were in their mother's womb. 'I love you still, dear sister. Cersei.' He had the urge to kiss her quivering lips but at the last second he stopped as he stared at her green, green eyes. The hurting in her face was physically felt in every part of his body. 'I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted. I'm so sorry.'

'No, Jaime.' She gripped his hands around her face and tried to reach for his lips. He pulled away wishing to not be weakened by what he needed to do. 'You won't do this to me, Jaime.' She said over and over again unwilling to let go of his hand.

For that instant he felt pity for her and for himself in turn and when Cersei saw it she let go of his hands with indignation. The tears quickly abated and the glassiness of her emerald eyes became as hot as it was cold with hate. It marred her beautiful face that had always been so regal. She was never angelic but a seductress, a queen. Once upon a time, his seductress, his queen, his muse. And now she won't be any.

'You can't turn your back on me, Jaime. You can't and I won't let you. You're mine!' The vehemence of her promise made him sadder than fearful. He wondered how long ago was it that Cersei looked at him with more adoration than spite or ire. When was it when he couldn't get enough of her face, of her smile? All of it seemed long ago and almost as if they were just figment of his imagination that was never true.

He saw her dash away a recalcitrant tear before she stormed off with no second look and the heavy thud of the door was much as a reprieve as a burden.

He might not understand who dealt the two of them the current hand that they had received but he was sure at that very moment that whoever it was bore them no love at all. He was wretched the moment he was conceived.

He never did believe with the gods but he prayed at that few seconds for his sister's happiness more than his own. He pleaded for them to forsake him if only they will lighten her heart.

Jaime, weakened as he was could only think of hammering and sanding to soothe his battered soul. And blue eyes, blue eyes might be able to save him. For some reason all he wanted at that moment is to be with the wench and the peaceful haven she had let him have even for such a short time.


End file.
